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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249493">The Little Black Book</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raynebow_of_the_Rising_Sun/pseuds/Raynebow_of_the_Rising_Sun'>Raynebow_of_the_Rising_Sun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A true heroine, Original Fiction, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:26:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raynebow_of_the_Rising_Sun/pseuds/Raynebow_of_the_Rising_Sun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A homeless woman finds a mysterious little black book that just might help her change the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Little Black Book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What appeared to be a bundle of worn rags crept silently through the harsh orange glow of street lights as it steadily picked it's way across the parking lot of the local Taco Bell. Fluffy, cloud-like flakes slowly danced their way towards the snowy slush blanketing the asphault beneath a wet pair of worn combat boots - one of which was obviously much newer than the other.</p><p>Misjudging one step by a mere fraction of an inch caused the carefully moving person to stumble into a large lump of solidly frozen slush. A hiss loud enough to be heard over the noise of a delivery truck as it slowly rolled by escaped through the clenched teeth of Jane Elder - the person at the center of the rags. She was cold enough through the damp layers of every stitch of clothing she owned that she could barely feel her feet - but she certainly felt the twisted ankle she'd just acquired. </p><p>It had been a brutally cold day which had faded into a hellishly cold night. She was shivering so vigorously that it was hard not to burst into tears or collapse into the snow and ice beneath her mismatched boots with no intention of ever getting back up again. She just barely managed to do neither while she gingerly made her way to the locked dumpster enclosure at the back of the parking lot. Every step sent pain racing from her twisted ankle down to her frozen toes and up her shaking leg, but she knew the food she was after would make the pain worth enduring.</p><p>The staff at this particular franchise always threw the left overs into clean, individual bags as they removed them from their warmers. She didn't know why they did that, but she was grateful they did. If she got lucky here tonight she might find enough clean and edible food to last for several days...possibly a week or more in these temperatures. </p><p>If she was unlucky she'd find nothing or, worse yet, be shooed away by one of the security people that routinely drove through this restaurant studded shopping center on their nightly rounds. </p><p>As she prepared to heft herself over the tall sides of the locked enclosure she glanced to the sky and sent a half formed prayer for deliverance from her current miseries winging it's way towards the heavens.</p><p>Gritting her teeth against the pain she knew was coming she squatted down to launch herself high enough into the air to grab the top of rail of the steel privacy fencing that formed the front of the enclosure. A series of rough growling groans tore from her throat while she hauled herself over the barrier and dropped into a heap on the other side as her twisted ankle refused to support her weight.</p><p>She was too close to give up now, the hard part was done, she'd made it inside... but a part of her that was tired of this meager life begged her to not get up.</p><p>After a few bracing breaths of air cold enough to make her teeth ache and her lungs feel seared she pushed herself to her feet and reached for the sun-faded old combination luck which repsented the final obstacle in her search for a full belly. </p><p>Giving the lock a gentle tug she slowly spun the dial until it opened just a tiny fragment more. A flash of relief crossed her reddened, wind-chapped face. With great concentration she closed her eyes and slowly maneuvered the lock through it's sequence using only the feel of the tumblers to guide her fingers as each number passed by the tiny arrow under the zero. When the lock popped open in her hand she let out a quiet whoop of satisfaction and pulled it from it's hasp. </p><p>Dropping the lock into her pocket for safe keeping, Jane shoved open the metal lid of the small-ish dumpster and reached in grabbing the large clear plastic bag closest to her. </p><p>Containing several smaller bags, the large bag was heavy and unwieldy but Jane managed to retrieve it without damaging the thin plastic.</p><p>Eagerly, she unworked the knot quickly despite her shaking hands. </p><p>“Jackpot!” she whispered gleefully and began pulling out bag after bag of partially frozen but perfectly edible base ingredients for nearly every item on the menu. As usual about two-thirds of the large sack was taken up by smaller bags of actual trash. She tossed those bags back into the dumpster keeping the sack to carry her new food in.</p><p>It only took her a moment to close the lid and replace the lock before hoisting her treasure to the top of the closed dumpster and climbing up behind it. The trash bin came to within inches of the back of the enclosure so she made her way there along the slippery metal and dropped her groceries gently to the ground beyond the barrier, hastily following it to freedom.</p><p>The afterglow of finding such a bounty did quite a lot to dull the pain from her twisted ankle, but she still limped slightly as she hurried through the mile long trip back to the stand of trees next to the highway where she had erected a surprisingly sturdy shelter from cardboard boxes, duct tape, and plastic bags.</p><p>She'd tried panhandling several times in the first year of the new normal that her homelessness had become, but after being assaulted for the third time in as many months she'd vowed that from that day forward she would live or die by her own wits and never ask anyone for anything, ever, again. </p><p>That was more than four years ago.</p><p>They'd been a long four years.</p><p>She'd nearly given up on numerous occasions, but something deep inside just wouldn't let her. </p><p>Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was just the natural human instinct to want to be alive. Most days she had no idea what kept her going, but whatever it was, it had sustained her through a full five years of abject poverty and the nearly constant humiliation, pain, and hunger that accompanied it.</p><p>For tonight, the thing that was keeping her going was the certainty that she wouldn't be hungry again for at least a week, possibly two, if the cold weather didn't abate any time soon.</p><p>Settling herself on a thick layer of blankets which covered a floor made from an old tarp and several carpet remnants she'd rescued from a bin behind a rug outlet across town, Jane started sifting through her treasures. She didn't pause to wonder why someone would throw out so much food, she'd learned from years of dumpster diving behind stores and restaurants that large amounts of food were often discarded even more frequently than other useful products.</p><p>No business owner wanted to have homeless people sifting through their trash or hanging out near their shop, so most places made sure to make their discarded foodstuffs as unappealing as possible. A few dumpsters in town even warned that any food found within would be poisoned to prevent vermin infestation in and around the site. It was a depressing indictment of the human race, in Jane's mind, that people would rather have perfectly edible food be send to a landfill than have it filling the bellies of human beings who were already living in very inhumane conditions.</p><p>Her shelter wasn't warm by any means, nor was it comfortable, but it was dry and it did block the wind very well. She lit a scented votive she'd found in the trash behind a dollar store and shucked out of her damp outer layers then wrapped herself in a triple layer of ugly wool blankets she had rescued from the trash behind the same army surplus store where she'd gotten her boots.</p><p>Still shivering she made herself an overstuffed burrito and carefully tucked away her remaining bounty under a pile of old chip bags, empty soda bottles and discarded newsprint advertisements in a battered box in the back corner of her home. To a casual observer it would appear to be an overflowing trash bin. It wasn't much but that was the only security she could provide for the food now nestled safely at the bottom of that messy pile of refuse.</p><p>Taking small, measured bites she chewed and chewed until the paste-like goo in her mouth felt warm to the insides of her blue tinged lips before allowing herself to swallow it. It was a trick meant to fool her belly into thinking it was getting a hot meal on a cold winter's day. </p><p>She hadn't eaten in a couple of days and she was still hungry by the time she finished that burrito so she dug the food back out and debated for a moment before deciding to make herself a big taco using a burrito shell and the meager scraps of lettuce and tomato that had been shoved into a large zip top bag.</p><p>Reaching into the bag of vegetation she pulled out a handful of salad as well as something that felt absolutely nothing like lettuce or diced tomatoes. </p><p>Frowning she plucked the strange object from its nest amongst the droopy, half frozen, lettuce. It was a tiny black notebook - no more than three inches by four inches and half an inch thick - with sturdy leather covers that, taken together, were as thick as the pages between them. The notebook had a golden stylized dove embossed in the center of it's front cover but bore no other marks.</p><p>“Strange,“ she mused, turning the book over with a flick of her wrist. “How'd you get into my salad?” she asked the book, not expecting an answer. She was homeless, but she wasn't crazy...yet.</p><p>Setting the book down, she returned to her meal a little worried that someone might have tampered with the food. </p><p>After she had finished her lettuce heavy taco she tucked her food back into its hiding spot then removed her boots and three layers of socks. Her hand brushed against the little black book as she prepared her nest of blankets and rugs so she could lie down to catch some much needed sleep after a long and difficult evening of surviving the search for edible food in the sub-freezing temperature.</p><p>“OH,” she muttered as she picked up the book. “It's you again.”</p><p>Tilting it towards the light from her one lit candle she opened the tiny book somewhere in the middle and frowned. Someone had written a series of numeric sequences in neat columns and rows on both of the pages that she could see.</p><p>Looking a little more intently she easily figured out that the first vertical column was comprised of dates in the MM/DD/YY format. The second column held a different six number combination with the last number neatly circled. All but a few of the third column spaces were empty. Those that were not empty simply had a two or three digit number followed by the letter “m”. </p><p>Flipping to the beginning of the book she saw the word “Mega” written on the inside cover and that the first set of numbers was dated to the first week of this year. It didn't take her long to discover that the final set of numbers was dated for the week after Christmas. None of the sequences on the pages had their third column filled in except for the sequence set just before Christmas - it had 784m in it's third column.</p><p>“What are you all about?” she wondered quietly as she flipped through the remaining, blank pages hoping for a clue to help answer that very question. Between the last page and the back cover she found a folded up ten dollar bill.</p><p>Smiling broadly for the first time since the weather had turned frigid she plucked the precious bill from the book and let out a quiet whoop then unfolded and kissed the creased paper directly where the long-dead president's portrait was located. “Thank you Mr. President! And thank you, God!”</p><p>She tucked the money away in the pocket of the pants beneath her outer layer, blew out the candle and snuggled into her musty smelling pile of cast-off wool blankets then quickly fell asleep with a smile still lingering on her chapped lips.</p><p>Snow continued to fall throughout the night and well into the morning as Jane slept peacefully in her almost warm nest. By the time she awoke the snow had added another half a foot to the several inches of accumulated ice and slush that'd been causing messy travel conditions and a multitude of auto accidents since the end of last week.</p><p>Waking up to a full bladder and temperatures in the low teens when you live in a house made of boxes, tape, and plastic isn't exactly a pleasant experience, however Jane didn't mind it so much this morning. The smile from last night still played at the corners of her mouth as she strapped on her boots and pulled on several of the slightly less damp sweatshirts and hoodies she'd been wearing the night before.</p><p>After five years on the streets Jane Elder was, in fact, a few pounds under the recommended weight for her stature, but to see her bundled up so thoroughly one might easily be lead to believe that she, like so many other Americans, could stand to lose a few pounds.</p><p>Without adding any protective layers to her bottom half she grabbed a small handful of fastfood napkins and waddled out into the snow where she headed towards the spot a hundred yards deeper into the woods that she used for her “business” when she was at home.</p><p>A few moments later a thin streak of red on her napkin wiped the smile off Jane's face in an instant.</p><p>“Frig!” she muttered. “that's just freaking wonderful.”</p><p>She sighed as she traipsed back to her shelter dejectedly. She hadn't planned to leave home today, not with an abundance of food making it unnecessary to subject herself to the numbing cold, but now she didn't have a choice, she needed to pick up some tampons.</p><p>Back inside her makeshift home Jane took her wet boots off and struggled into her remaining three pairs of pants before putting the boots back on. Without thinking about it she grabbed the little black book and trudged through the snow to the nearest store - a Shell Station just a half mile from her campsite.</p><p>The store was warm enough to cause her to break into an almost immediate sweat while she waited to use her ten dollar bill to pay for her purchase. Long minutes ticked by as an older gentleman chatted with the clerk and scratched off lotto tickets. </p><p>“Aha! Look? See there? I told you it was about to hit something! One hundred dollars!” the man crowed happily as he handed the winning ticket to the clerk. “give it all to me in MegaCash quick picks!” he said enthusiastically. “I'm aiming to retire tonight with that cool half a billion dollar jackpot!”</p><p>The old man turned to Jane, “lucky money buys lucky tickets - never forget that piece of advice, little girl!”</p><p>Jane barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes hard enough to give herself a migraine. She hadn't been called a little girl since she was one - over twenty-five years ago - and she found she really didn't like being called one now, but she bit her tongue. The man was clearly old enough to be her father and Jane had never been one to disrespect the elderly. It wasn't that the man deserved her respect, he was obviously a rude old fool, she reasoned - it was that she respected herself enough to not give the old coot the kind of dressing down he so richly deserved.</p><p>Glancing down at the box in her hand the old man shook his head and blurted, “well I guess that explains the sour puss.” before turning his back to resolutely ignore the glowering woman who was struggling not to return his rudeness with gleeful abandon.</p><p>After scratching off a few more lotto tickets and buying a pack of cigarettes the old man left, finally allowing Jane to pay for her box of Tampax. She collected her change and turned to head for the bathroom to take care of her hygienic needs when a small pink and white piece of paper caught her attention.</p><p>The word “Mega“ was printed at the top in big, bold, blocky letters with the much less noticeable word “cash” written across the bottom, between those two words was a series of six numbers, the final one encased in a circle. Under the numbers was last Friday's date and the word “Jackpot” next to the number 525,000,000.</p><p>“Would you like to buy a ticket? Nobody hit it last week so tonight's jackpot is over six hundred million.” The clerk intoned.</p><p>Glancing down at the three crumpled singles in her hand Jane shook her head. “No, thank you. I dont have that kind of luck.”</p><p>“You sure?” the young man asked persistently, “you look like you could use it.”</p><p>“It's over half a billion dollars, everybody could use it.” Jane sourly snapped. Jamming the change from the found ten dollar bill into the pocket of her outermost hoodie, she stomped off to the ladies room.</p><p>Her business handled Jane exited the restroom and jammed her hands into her pockets, to keep from flipping off the presumptuous clerk then winced as the sharp corner of the little black book bit into the ragged cuticle of her itchy middle finger. She stopped in her tracks and pulled the book from her pocket.</p><p>Flipping through it she found Friday's date, walked over to the counter and read the numbers on both the notebook page and the pink and white printout. </p><p>Both sets of numbers were identical.</p><p>Shaking her head at her own gullibility, Jane closed the book and slipped it back into her pocket. </p><p>Someone at the Taco Bell must know she'd been diving into their dumpster on a fairly regular basis over the past few years and had decided to prank her, she figured.</p><p>Jane stepped out of the store muttering to herself about the depths of human cruelty in the world and walked back to her shelter in a foul mood. Once inside she stripped off her damp outer layers and settled cross-legged into the middle of her home-made sleeping mat. Reaching under the top corner of the bottom blanket she brought out the one and only piece of her former life that she still possessed - a well worn copy of Jane Austen's “Pride &amp; Prejudice.“</p><p>Setting the prized novel in her lap she reached up and unstuck a small piece of tape that held a flap of cardboard over the small window she'd fashioned into the wall beside her bed using only duct tape and several pieces of clear plastic she had salvaged from one of the sacks she'd used to carry food home from the Taco Bell.</p><p>“I need you to turn today around for me, Mr. Darcy.” she said as she opened the beloved book and began reading the words she already knew by heart.</p><p>Hours later Jane sighed as she struggled to finish the chapter she was reading in the dimness of a winter's twilight. She hadn't put the book down since she'd opened it but if she didn't do so soon she would have to attend to her bodily needs in full darkness and she certainly didn't want to have to do that. </p><p>“OK,” she mumbled to her aching lower belly as she finished the chapter and set the book aside. “I'm going, I'm going.”</p><p>Her little hut wasn't tall enough to allow her to stand up fully, but she still managed to get in a good stretch anyway to ease the protests of her back, which was quite unhappy to have been hunched over a book all day.</p><p>Pulling on her extra sweatshirts, Jane once again found herself with the little black book in her hand.</p><p>She gave it a hard glare and considered tossing it right out into the snow, but decided to tuck it back into her pocket along with a small handful of napkins and a fresh tampon.</p><p>After she returned to her sanctuary she lit the candle, stripped off her outerwear and boots, dug tonight's supper out of its hiding place and ate until she felt full enough to be able to confidently return the food to it's hiding spot, knowing she wouldn't need to get it back out again tonight.</p><p>The candle was in need of a long burn to even out the wax inside it's glass jar, she decided and picked up her book to continue on with the story in the scant light provided by the small flame.</p><p>Huddled in her blankets she passed the rest of the long evening in relative comfort as her mind swept her away into the beautiful world of Austen's epic love story.</p><p>The next morning she awoke to a pounding headache and crippling menstrual cramps. Groaning she reached up to lower the flap over her makeshift window then turned on her side, curling into a ball to cradle her aching belly with both hands.</p><p>As much as she didn't want to move from that position, her morning biological needs soon forced her out into the bright but breathtakingly cold morning.</p><p>She could hear her own heartbeat like thunder in her ears, throbbing agony careened around the inside of her skull with each life-giving pulse. Gritting her teeth against the pain and the cold Jane half walked, half blindly stumbled the half mile to the Shell station to buy a single dose packet of pain relievers.</p><p>At the register she forked over one of her precious dollar bills and dug through the “give a penny, take a penny tray” for the coins to cover the tax on the ninety-nine cent packet of sweet relief. </p><p>The young man behind the counter, the same fellow from yesterday, eyed her warily then said, “You were right not to buy a lotto ticket yesterday, nobody hit it, so the jackpot is going to skyrocket for Friday's drawing.”</p><p>Jane glowered at him menacingly then glanced at the tiny slip of of pink and white paper with last night's numbers printed on it. Unable to resist the impulse she pulled out the little black book and flipped to yesterday's date.</p><p>“Son of a bitch!” she yelped.</p><p>The numbers written in the book were identical to those on the printout.</p><p>Her eyes darted between the two pieces of paper three times before she reached into her pocket to fish out her last two greenbacks. “How much does a ticket cost?”</p><p>“Two dollars.” the clerk replied.</p><p>“Ok, I want one. How do I do this?”</p><p>“That depends, if you want a quick pick you just give me the money, if you want specific numbers you have to fill out one of the Megacash cards over at the lotto kiosk.” he said pointing at the gaudy monstrosity next to the door which was covered in ads for various lottery games.</p><p>Jane rushed over and scribbled dark pencil marks into the boxes of the numbers that matched with the numbers next to this coming Friday's date in the tiny book she had found mixed in with her supper two nights ago.</p><p>Holding her breath she double checked her newly purchased ticket against the numbers in her notebook then slipped both into her pocket and nervously rushed home to hide them in a bag under the trash box in the corner of her cardboard shack.</p><p>The next seventy-two hours were an agony of chaotic emotions and sleepless nights for Jane as she vacilitated between uncontrollable excitement and crushing doubt-induced despair. </p><p>What would she do with the money if she won? What would she do with her life if she didn't? </p><p>In all the time she had been on the streets Jane had never felt so uncertain about what tomorrow might bring as she was while she counted down the days, then hours, then minutes before Friday's lottery drawing. </p><p>Friday night was the worst night of her entire life. Knowing the numbers had been called but that she wouldn't know what they were until the Shell opened the next morning kept her wide awake for the whole night.</p><p>As soon as the sky began to lighten from deep black to dark blue Jane got herself ready, hid the book and lotto ticket - which she had memorized every facet of, and hurried off to find out if she was still impoverished or if she was the farthest thing from it.</p><p>The clerk at the gas station was just unlocking the door as she walked up to it.</p><p>He smiled and opened the door for her with a chipper greeting.</p><p>“Good morning.” she replied as she rushed over to the spot where he kept the lotto results printout.</p><p>“I was just about to change that!” he said, rounding the corner of the counter and tapping a few buttons on the lotto machine.</p><p>Jane wanted to scream as the machine took it's sweet time spitting out the tiny piece of paper that held the tenuous threads of her sanity firmly in it's lifeless grasp.</p><p>The clerk frowned down at the printout then smirked and said, “Ooh, somebody's about to have the happiest Christmas there ever was.” handing the printout to Jane he added, “there was one winner!”</p><p>Jane's eyes devoured the slip of paper.</p><p>“So, how'd you do?” the young man prompted as Jane stared at the six number sequence printed on the paper in her trembling hand.</p><p>Blinking owlishly she swallowed the huge lump in her throat and looked up into the curious gaze of the young man across the counter from her. “I forgot my ticket at home.” she said through lips gone suddenly numb. “may I take this with me? So I can check my ticket?”</p><p>“Sure.” he replied. “You don't have to match all six to win some money” he offered then explained, “there are several ways to win, like - if you match the circled number or it and 2 or 3 other numbers I can give you your winnings right here. But if you match all six or just the other five numbers without the circled number or four and the circled number you'd have to go to the lotto commission downtown because that's worth a lot more than I have in the register... They won't be open until Monday morning, though.”</p><p>Jane nodded and thanked him then walked back to her shelter in a daze.</p><p>Monday morning. Monday morning. She had to keep her ticket safe and secure until Monday morning. She had to wait until Monday morning.</p><p>Her mind in a whirl, Jane didn't even feel the biting cold as she made her way back to the cardboard shack in the spot she had called home for the past year and a half - since she'd been routed out of her much warmer and way nicer accommodations in the basement of the local high school, which she had been living in, undetected, for two years by that point. </p><p>Monday morning dawned chilly and bright as Jane made her way to the Lottery commission with her ticket, ID, and the little black book tucked securely inside the pocket of her innermost layer of pants.</p><p>She had never enjoyed a weekend less in her entire life - and that included the two weekends she'd spent suffering through an epic case of chicken pox when she was twelve years old.</p><p>She was so nervous she could barely breathe around the tightness in her chest as she walked into the lobby of the lottery commission. </p><p>“No public restrooms!” a stern voice emanated from her left, drawing her eyes to a grey haired woman in a frumpy blue smock who was grimacing in her general direction without making eye contact.</p><p>“I don't need a restroom.” Jane said as she crossed the polished floor to stand before the woman. “I need to cash in my lotto ticket.”</p><p>The woman harumphed at Jane then held out her hand for the ticket.</p><p>Jane glanced around the otherwise empty lobby. “is there anybody else around? Somebody who can witness me giving you my ticket?”</p><p>The woman peered loathingly at Jane then replied, “hit a big one, did you? Don't worry, your ticket is safe with me. I'm not even legally allowed to play the lotto.”</p><p>Jane winced a little at the sharpness of the other woman's tone but then said, “I'm really sorry, its nothing personal, but I am going to need at least one other person out here before I hand over my ticket.”</p><p>The sternfaced woman pierced Jane with a cold blue stare then picked up the receiver of the telephone on her desk and jabbed a button. “Could you send Clarence to my desk, please? I have someone here that I need his assistance with.” she said into the mouth piece then thanked the person on the other end and replaced the handset into its cradle. </p><p>Interminably long minutes passed in silence as the two women waited, staring daggers at each other, for Clarence to arrive.</p><p>Jane wasn't the least bit surprised to see a tall, fit, and well armed security guard step off the elevator and walk directly towards her.</p><p>“Hello, ladies.” he said in a friendly manner that belied the tension evident in his posture. “What seems to be the problem?”</p><p>“There's no problem, sir.” Jane said quickly before the steeley eyed hoyden across the wide expanse of dark brown wood could interject. “I just wanted a witness to see me hand this lady my lotto ticket.”</p><p>A big smile broke across the security guard's handsome dark brown face and his posture instantly relaxed. “I understand.” he said with a nod. “well, I'm here now, so feel free to hand it over.”</p><p>Jane nodded back as she dug into the back of her multiple waistbands until her fingers could inch their way into her pocket and retrieve the id-ticket-notebook sandwich she had hidden there.</p><p>She handed the ticket over and the other woman looked at it before setting it down next to her keyboard and tapping a few keys. “I see.” she mused after a moment then looked up at Jane through the tops of her cheap plastic reading glasses. “we will need to verify the authenticity of the ticket, of course.”</p><p>“Of course.” Jane repeated. </p><p>The older lady picked up her phone again and pressed some keys then waited to be connected. “Mr. Davis, this is Lois Cheney at the front desk, I have a young woman here with what appears to be the winning ticket for Friday's MegaCash jackpot... Yes, sir, right away, sir.”</p><p>Lois hung up the phone and handed the ticket back to Jane, saying “Clarence will escort you to where you need to be.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Jane said to each of them then followed Clarence to the elevator he had gotten out of only a few moments ago.</p><p>“Woo-ey!” Clarence whooped as the elevator doors slid closed. “what are you gonna do with all that money?”</p><p>Jane looked him in the eye and firmly stated, “I'm going to get the homeless off the streets by providing them with light weight, solar powered, micro-homes that are attached to the back of a bicycle so they can take it with them everywhere they go.”</p><p>“God bless you!” he said, covering his heart with his right hand and bowing slightly towards her.</p><p>“He already did.” Jane said solemnly. “That's why I'm standing here right now.”</p>
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